


Say It Back

by strangeispowerful



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: But he's trying ooh boy, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Jared Kleinman Is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Repost from my one shot collection bc I like it so much hhh, Song: Sweet Tooth (Cavetown), Songfic, Studio Ghibli References, The Author has no idea what she's doing, kind of angst, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeispowerful/pseuds/strangeispowerful
Summary: Jared's trying something new. He's trying to be a new person, and maybe that new person actually tells Evan how he feels.Or: Jared throws a TV remote at the wall and somewhere in the mess, things end up coming to the surface.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman, Kleinsen - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	Say It Back

**Author's Note:**

> Songfic for "Sweet Tooth" by Cavetown!

“You haven’t been acting like yourself, lately,” says Evan, shifting on the couch next to Jared. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

Jared doesn’t respond because he doesn’t feel like spitting out the quip that surfaces in his mind—and that’s what Evan means, right? Jared’s not ‘acting like himself’, only because he’s suppressing the cynical inner monologue from leaking out. For once, he’s filtering the sarcasm and bitterness and trying not be an asshole. That has to be what he means.

But still, it’s unclear. Jared really doesn’t even know who ‘he’ is. He can’t be acting unlike himself because the ‘himself’ part of the equation fell away a long time ago. He’s been sorta existing in this in-between space… because he was trying so hard to change before, trying  _ too  _ hard. It was unreasonable, as if he just expected himself to jump between parallel universes, parallel selves. He thought it’d be that easy, to paint up this idea of a new person, but he’d lost all of his energy. Stopped halfway through, and now he’s the human example of ‘grey-area’. It’s a joke.

So he says, “I’m trying something new.”

Evan tilts his head like a golden retriever—a shy golden retriever. One that’s obsessed with trees. Jared takes this as a sign to continue, even if he doesn’t really know where he’s going.

“I’m an asshole,” he says, blunt. He’s always been pretty good at telling it as it is, harsh even. Evan opens his mouth as if to argue, but Jared shakes his head, dismissing him before he can. “Evan… don’t. I’m literally an asshole to  _ you.  _ In particular.”

“You’re—,” Evan starts, and Jared doesn’t interrupt him because… and it’s indulgent, but it’s... maybe… maybe he wants to hear Evan say some good things about him. He stares at him. _Prove me wrong._ But “Jared,” is all he says. 

“I’m…?”

“You’re just… kind of aloof? You’re not an asshole.”

And… and he’s starting to get kind of mad, he can feel that in the headache that’s building behind his eyes. Because he was going somewhere with this, and Evan—

Evan.

It’s not fair, really. He kinda wants to take all the thoughts of him and throw them out of a window, or off of a bridge. The same finality of burning a box of letters, donating an old ex’s sweater. Not that—not that Evan’s, like, his ex. But Jared  _ needs  _ to evict him, keep him from taking up residence in his brain. Or at  _ least  _ get him to pay rent.

Because thoughts—or, more accurately— _ feelings _ for Evan Hansen are like a chronic illness. They come and go like symptoms and don’t feel any better. They’re like safety pins. 

Jared has a choice. He can hope that feeling this way can bring them closer together, use them as an excuse to keep holding on. They’ve pretty much been stuck together since elementary, anyway—might as well stick a pin through the fabric of their jacket sleeves and solidify their companionship.

But they’re as sharp as pins, too. A whole invisible arsenal in Jared’s fucking head that perpetually has the reticule aimed on him. Feelings for Evan Hansen are weapons of mass self destruction.

That’s part of the reason he wants to change, so wholly and deeply that it almost makes him feel sick if he really thinks about it. He’s had enough of staring at the ceiling and wondering how his life would be if he just…

If he just…

What? 

_ Told him,  _ whispers a voice in the back of his head, but he doesn’t hear it, not really. It’s  _ that  _ quiet.

“Jared?” says Evan again, probably because he’s been weirdly quiet.

And instead of answering, he taps the upward-arrow on the volume control instead, looking back at the TV. Evan’s looking right at him, he can tell, can see him in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t feel like talking, even if he did start the conversation. He’s changed his mind.

“Jared. Are you okay?”

He nods and confirms. He’s pressing on the volume button so hard now that he’s probably going to snap the remote control in half. 

“Why are you doing this?” Evan asks, raising his voice just a little above the steadily rising television speaker, and there’s this undertone of anger in it that almost makes Jared flinch.

_ “There’s a demon inside of you,”  _ says Ashitaka from the screen. Evan’s always liked Studio Ghibli, and, therefore, it’s  _ of course  _ grown on Jared. As a part of Jared’s new (and seemingly impossible) Trying Not to be an Asshole or at Least Not as Much of One mindset, he let Evan choose the movie. Besides, he likes _ Princess Mononoke _ , even if it’s kind of boring in the middle. Now it’s just mocking him.

_ “Look! Everyone! This is what hatred looks like! This is what it does when it catches hold of you! It’s eating me alive, and very soon, it will kill me—,” _

“Jared!”

The TV’s at top volume now, and Evan is shouting to be heard above it. Jared has his eyes squeezed shut, trying to fucking…  _ something.  _ Something! Good thing his parents aren’t home. They’d flip if they heard the old speakers, crackling, probably about to blow.  _ “Fear and anger only make it grow faster!”  _

“Jared—!”

His head is kind of pounding, but at the same time, he feels surprisingly blank. So he surprises himself when he picks up the controller and hurls it across the room—it hits the wall with a horrible snapping sound before rebounding and smacking against the floor. He can see Evan flinch a little, and then the TV mutes itself, probably detecting a disturbance from the remote, or something.

Yeah. Good thing his parents aren’t home.

And it’s quiet. Nothing now but the steady rush of the A.C. and Jared’s kind of ragged breathing. He sits there and stares at the remote, watching as one of the double-A batteries rolls across the floor.  _ Not looking at Evan. _

Don’t do it.

_ Don’t do it. _

“You’re not okay.” Evan whispers.

And Jared looks at him, and knows immediately that he’s lost. They hold each other’s gaze for a second, and then Jared is surprisingly  _ not  _ as blank feeling as he thought he was. He tries to catch his breath and fails, and then he’s all congested and his face is way too red, and his nose is burning, and he has to turn away to take rip his glasses off and furiously swipe at his eyes so that Evan doesn’t see.

He grits his teeth. Crosses his arms and sinks into the couch, and his voice is quiet when he says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to...” Evan doesn’t respond, and Jared looks back at him,  _ needing  _ the other boy to say something,  _ anything _ . “I’m sorry!”

“No, no, it’s… it’s okay.” He’s sitting cross-legged, but he looks decidedly  _ not  _ casual in a decidedly subtle way. Like, his shoulders are doing the inward slant that they do when he’s anxious. Only one eyebrow is tipped up, as if he can’t control it, and his mouth is slightly parted.

Jared should just look away. “Maybe you should leave,” he says. “I’m having a bad day.” He looks back up at the TV to where Ashitaka is racing along the plains, slowly bleeding out before he can reach his destination. Right. That’s what it feels like, doesn’t it?

And he swallows and has to take his glasses off again, but this time, he just leaves them off. He reaches down at the foot of the couch and opens his water bottle, and it’s cold against his throat but that doesn’t really help with anything. He’s not even thirsty.

“Jared. What’s going on?”

“You’re not exactly acting like yourself, either,” Jared bites back. The deflecting is almost a fucking reflex by now. “Why are you being so…” He shakes his head. “So…”

“I’m not leaving, by the way,” says Evan, softer.

“I asked you to.”

“I… I don’t care. Because you… you’re obviously out of it. Something’s up. And… something’s never up with you. And I just figured it was only a matter of time? And I was right, Jared.” Evan shakes his head. “I was right.”

He squints. “What? Just leave, man. I don’t want to bite your fucking head off, okay? I’m not in the mood for the guilt.”

“See? That.”

“What?” he says again, more exasperated this time. He feels like a kid, like every bit of maturity is leaving him and he’s just arguing to  _ argue  _ because, what, it makes him feel better? Because that’s not it.

“Jared, you don’t throw things.”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t. What’s happening?”

“I just—!” He cuts himself off, bites his tongue. Because he really doesn’t want to fight with Evan, and that’s what he  _ is  _ doing—arguing just to argue. And he thinks, maybe it’s better to just put as much distance between them as possible. To push and push, force him away until the feeling in his chest fades into nothing. Until it’s forgotten.

But then again, a tiny part of him thinks… it’s too  _ much  _ to be forgotten. There’s so much tied around it, so much bundled within it, that throwing it away would be more detrimental than not. It’s beneath the skin, tied into his chest, cardiac. If he wants to get something like this out, he’d need heart surgery, probably.

And there’s an even tinier part of him that... doesn’t want it _ gone.  _ For a split second, he can acknowledge and see that. Because even if feelings for Evan Hansen are weapons of mass self destruction, they’re simultaneously the cure. Sweetness and light. Like some fucked up drug. Even if feelings for Evan Hansen lead him running in circles in his head, noting all of his flaws and all of the reasons the feelings will  _ never  _ happen, they also whisper sweet nothings. Maybes. What If’s.

It’s bad for him, but he can’t help feeling the way he does. It’s like a guilty pleasure… no, that’s not right. Kind of like a sweet tooth. He knows the feelings aren’t the smartest or the most logical or the most realistic, but he can’t get enough of them. Intoxicated by the juxtaposition of it.

It’s not Jared’s fault—Evan isn’t exactly an acquired taste, and Jared can imagine just about  _ anyone  _ falling for him. Because Evan is quiet, and he’s soft, and he listens… that’s really important to him for some reason. Maybe he should listen more.

He takes a breath, wipes at his face. “Listen, I’m sorry about throwing the remote. I just feel like shit lately.”

Evan doesn’t say anything, but inclines his head just a little, and Jared has known him for long enough to know this means that he can continue without worrying about cutting him off.

“I said I was an asshole, because I am. I’m… brash and I don’t really think things through before I say them, and... I feel like  _ shit  _ about it.” He closes his eyes and pretends that maybe, when he opens them, he won’t be having this conversation right now. It doesn’t work.

“You’re not as bad as I think you think you are,” Evan says, and it’s such an  _ Evan  _ sentence—the words are placed funny and the intonation comes up just a little at the end, that thing he does when he’s trying to process his thoughts—that he can’t help but feel something in his chest. 

“...What?” 

Evan shakes his head. “You go on and on about how… how you’re an asshole? And, yeah, you say really harsh stuff sometimes. A lot of the time—,” he winces. “Sorry—I, I was going to… just lie?” Blinking, he leans back on the arm of the couch and wraps his arms around his chest. Jared just looks at him, because they’re having a conversation and that counts as an excuse to. “I mean, to make you feel better? But you… never really are like this. So I don’t want to be… fake. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, quiet, shifting his gaze to the clock on the wall. It’s like that, he thinks. Like how you can’t hear the ticking of a clock until you focus on it, and then you can’t  _ un _ hear it? Like accidentally rubbing a mosquito bite on your arm after it’s stopped itching. Hyperaware-ness.

Now that he’s thought himself into this deep-end, he can’t think himself out of it.

“You say harsh stuff, but it’s not… sincere? It’s always aloof, but you’re not… genuinely  _ bad.  _ You’re not… not a bad person.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and looks away from Jared, blue eyes always finding their way away from his, nervous.

“I feel bad,” he says, and the expression seems too simple, too easy. Not enough to fully convey the knot in his chest. “I’m not nice to you. Not like you are to me.”

Evan tilts his head again, his shoulders still slanted inward. “You don’t really realize the little things. Or—I don’t think you do. Do you?”

“I… don’t know what you mean.”

He swallows. “Like, how you always hold the door open for me?”

Jared just stares blankly before a choked laugh finds its way out of his mouth. “Ev, that doesn’t exactly—,”

“You always call first.”

“What?”

“Because you know… that, like, sometimes I get kind of nervous to call you. Because I’m worried that you’ll be busy. I mean, unless it’s an emergency—so you always call first.”

He’s quiet.

“You let me pick what movie we watch pretty often. And you never complain about it, ever, even if I know you hate it.”

“I don’t—,”

“And,” he continues, and Jared doesn’t think that Evan even noticed that he cut Jared off. His eyes are closed, a focused look on his face. Like he’s trying to make sure his thoughts are coming out clearly enough to be understood. “You always come up to me in the hallway. You don’t ignore me.”

“Why would I…?”

“I don’t know, Jared.” He squeezes his eyes tighter, shakes his head again. “I’m trying to tell you. You’re… you’re blunt and harsh, and kind of rude but you’re always joking? I can tell you are? Even if other people can’t. It doesn’t bother me as much. You still put up with me. You still hang out with—with me.”

Evan opens his eyes, and Jared, who is a little less red-eyed than before, takes his glasses from the armrest of the couch and puts them on, trying to use the action as some kind of buffer. “That’s… I just wish I was a different person. And I don’t ‘put up’ with you.”

Evan bites his lip, and Jared shrugs his shoulders. “Not what I mean. I don’t put up with you because… like, it’s not a necessary thing, dude. Hanging out with you isn’t, like, a chore.” He huffs a breath, looks back at the TV. “I just kind of want to be someone else. I didn’t mean to make it a whole thing.”

“What I’m… what I’m trying to say is I don’t want you to be—I don’t think you need to be someone else. I love you exactly the way you are.”

Jared’s head turns to him, and he’s already getting flustered.

“I—I mean—,”

“I like you,” Jared blurts, and immediately feels the world fall away from beneath him. It’s quiet. The clock ticks, and Jared’s hurtling toward the ground because  _ why did he say that why did he say that— _

Evan looks at him. They’re holding each other’s stare, and it’s quiet, and Jared feels almost like he’s torn open a line of stitches in his skin. Like he’s bleeding, and there’s no coming back from it.

_ Say it back. _

_ Please. Say it back. _

“You—,” Evan stutters, “You mean, like—,”

“Yeah,” he chokes.

“As like—a friend...?”

_ Oh. _

“I—I mean—,” he swallows, shakes his head. His ears are rushing, and he can feel sweat breaking out across his skin. “Yeah, of… course.”

_ Tick. Tick. Tick. _

“O—Oh,” says Evan, and it comes out like a sigh. “Oh.” And he looks… disappointed. And Jared blinks because maybe he’s… he’s delusional. “I was… Sorry, I thought—,”

They look at each other. 

“Because I… If—,” He’s turning bright red, now, and Jared’s heart is pounding so hard that his thinks his ears are going to explode. “If you— I—,”

“I didn’t,” Jared coughs. “I didn’t mean—,”

_ Tick. Tick. _

Evan’s mouth is open, parted slightly, eyes kind of wide. He’s flushed, freckles like speckles of tawny watercolor against his skin. “You… didn’t?”

He shakes his head.

“You—?”

Jared’s so fucking out of it that the nod he gives barely counts as a nod. He feels like he’s just leapt out of an airplane, like the ground must be rushing up to meet him, soon enough. 

Any minute now.

And then Evan leans forward across the couch, and he kisses Jared.

And...

There’s this closeness to it that he’d never really considered; he’d never realized how small the space between someone else and him really could be. And he can hardly breathe, and it’s all gone quiet, and the feeling of his mouth, and the warmth, and—his head is about to explode because  _ what?  _ and—

Evan pulls away, eyes wide. “Oh—Oh god—,”

“It’s okay!” Jared rushes, hands up, trying to preserve the outright  _ impossibility  _ of the moment. “Evan, it’s… it’s more than okay—,”

His mouth is open, and his eyes are like two blue moons, each a mirror reflection of the other. “It’s…”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He’s breathless.

“Yeah.”

And it’s like this huge weight has been taken off of Jared’s chest, like for once, the universe has offered him some kind of olive branch.

“I like you,” Evan says back to him.

And the feeling is so shiny and new, not roughed up around the edges, gentle and kind, that Jared feels like, drunk on it. He smiles stupidly, because all of his bandwidth is being taken up by Evan. “Want to do that again?”

He smiles back. “I think so, yeah.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> Hope everyone's doing good!


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